


negative space

by emmerrr



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Friendship, Gen, M/M, POV Alternating, Sad, but also maybe canon divergent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:26:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25020004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmerrr/pseuds/emmerrr
Summary: In the months following the loss of Cabeswater, Blue and the boys struggle with the niggling feeling that someone is missing.
Relationships: Richard Gansey III/Blue Sargent, Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 24
Kudos: 90





	negative space

Blue very much enjoyed days spent at the Barns.

Ronan was different here. Quicker to smile, to laugh. Adam was different, too. A little less guarded, a little more comfortable. Blue wasn’t sure if that was to do with Ronan or the Barns or a combination of the two, but she liked to witness the tiny changes. And always, Ronan and Adam would seek each other out with their eyes in a small, private way that made her smile. She wondered if they were aware they were doing it.

They’d spent much of the day helping Ronan clear out an old barn on the property so that he could make better use of the space for his own purposes, and now they were huddled around a fire pit outside, teasing and joking and laughing. Ronan had brought out some marshmallows for them to skewer and roast over the fire, and Blue found herself wishing she could freeze this moment, this night.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t looking forward to the summer and beyond. It was just that she liked _this_ too. It felt like she’d only just found them, her friends, her raven boys. She wasn’t ready to let it go yet.

Her mind had been drifting, so she zoned back in again, mildly surprised at the turn the conversation had taken.

“My first kiss was at some fundraiser my mom put together, when I was like, twelve,” Gansey said. He looked into the fire thoughtfully. “Her name was...Olivia?”

Ronan was half-lying on the ground, leaning back against Adam who had his arms folding neatly over Ronan’s chest. He raised his head to shake it at Gansey. “You can’t even remember her name? That’s cold, man.”

“It was Olivia. It was definitely Olivia,” Gansey said, nodding to himself. “What about you, Adam?”

Adam shrugged. “It was a girl from my old school, before Aglionby.”

Ronan peered up at him, pouting. “Was she prettier than me, Parrish?”

“No, Ronan,” Adam said dutifully, bending down slightly to press a kiss to Ronan’s forehead. “No one’s prettier than you.”

Ronan grinned smugly. “Too fucking right.”

“No need to ask yours, is there?” Blue said cheekily.

“Hey, just because I’m not a floozy like you lot,” he snarked back.

“Come on now, Blue’s not a floozy,” Gansey said. “We all know who her first kiss was.” He squeezed her hand and smiled, really looking quite pleased with himself, which was ironic given how that first kiss had gone down.

“You realise you just implied that you and me _are_ floozies, right?” Adam pointed out to Gansey, but before he could reply, something occurred to Blue.

“That’s not true, actually,” she said. “I kissed someone before you.”

Gansey looked at Adam, who shook his head and shrugged. “But...who? When?”

“It was at Monmouth,” Blue started slowly. Already the surety was fading. She could picture the day, she could remember wandering around the sprawling space of Monmouth, it feeling illicit somehow with the others not there. How had she gotten in?

There was...there was laughing. She remembered jokingly trying on Gansey’s ridiculous polo shirts. Although, was that her? She couldn’t remember; there was a piece missing. It had been ripped away. But that _kiss._ Lying down on Gansey’s bed, turning towards…

Nothing. No one. A blank space. She remembered, but she didn’t, and both were somehow true at once.

She was suddenly very aware of everyone looking at her, and the mirth had dropped from all of their faces. She tried again; maybe speaking it would force the memory. “It was...” Cold, her mind supplied. Cold and awkward, funny and sweet. And yet so very, very sad.

“Was it the back of your hand, Sargent?” Ronan said, a clear attempt to lighten the mood. “Because I’m pretty sure that doesn’t count.”

She managed a smile, and Adam swooped in to change the subject, Gansey jumping off from it immediately.

Blue tried to pay attention, but her eye started prickling where her stitches had been months ago, and she covered it with her hand. She felt that phantom pain she got sometimes, like someone was trying to gouge her eye out. She couldn’t quite remember how she’d hurt it in the first place now, and wasn’t that strange? She remembered Adam, his hands taken over by the demon, slashing through the stitches. She remembered _getting_ the stitches. But before that? She just remembered being afraid.

She leaned her head against Gansey’s shoulder, and he in turn tilted his head so it was resting lightly against hers. The boys were still talking quietly so she let her eyes close and listened to the comforting sound of their voices.

She couldn’t understand why she thought she’d ever kissed anyone other than Gansey. She’d been raised in the knowledge of her curse, and she had always, _always_ been so careful.

She fell asleep, and dreamt of a kiss that had never happened, the ghost of a tear on her cheek.

* * *

Ronan sat on the floor, leaning against Gansey’s bedframe and tossing Chainsaw Rice Krispies straight from the box. Gansey was sitting cross legged by his model Henrietta, tongue poked out in concentration as he carefully glued the roof on top of a little 300 Fox Way. The only light source came from a desktop lamp that Gansey had moved to the floor. That, and the moonlight that shone through the huge windows.

It was rare for Ronan to spend the night at Monmouth these days, although not unheard of. Adam had picked up a last minute shift so their time together had been cut short, and Ronan hadn’t wanted to drive all the way back to the Barns when he had Mass at St. Agnes the following morning.

Being back here like this, just the two of them, reminded Ronan of those months after his father had died. It was companionable, but it hurt. So much had changed, and everyone would be gone again soon.

Ronan thrummed with restless, directionless energy. He threw a piece of cereal a little too far and it ended up in front of the room next to Ronan’s. Chainsaw skittered off after it, but even after she returned, Ronan found his attention lingering on that door; closed, like someone was inside. There wasn't; it had been empty ever since Adam had briefly stayed in there.

But there was something that tugged at his memory, something about that room...

Ronan shook his head; he must be tired. But he didn’t _feel_ tired.

“You could help, you know,” Gansey said, the first words spoken allowed in many minutes. Ronan was glad for it and he grinned.

“I _am_ helping. I’m getting rid of these Rice Krispies so you’ve got another cereal box to build with. You’re _welcome.”_

“What you’re doing,” Gansey said, holding up a stray piece of puffed rice that had ended up in his model town, “is making a mess.”

This was true, so Ronan didn’t refute it. “I’m bored,” he announced. “Let’s go to Dollar City. We can take Chainsaw.”

Gansey snorted. “Last time we went there you smashed that glittery snow globe. We’re probably not even allowed back.”

“No I didn’t, that was you.” Ronan was more than happy to smash things, but credit where credit was due. Then again, that didn’t seem right. He frowned. “Wasn’t it?”

Gansey looked confused now too. “No, I never even touched it.” He bit his lip, thinking. “Someone else was with us. Adam?”

Ronan shook his head vehemently. “You were literally talking to him on the phone when it happened, I remember. But it definitely wasn’t me, I didn’t even pick it up.” He frowned again. He remembered that night. He remembered seeing the snow globe. He remembered it dropping and shattering all over the floor. He remembered suddenly feeling cold, an all-consuming cold that had overcome him momentarily. He just couldn’t remember any of the parts linking all those moments together. _“Did_ I?”

“You must have done,” Gansey said, but he didn’t look sure.

Ronan hated this feeling, like he was forgetting something important. It happened sometimes, ever since they sacrificed Cabeswater to bring Gansey back, this feeling that something intrinsic was missing. He assumed it was something to do with the ley line, but what exactly he had no way of knowing.

A faceless voice dropped into his head. _I know why you’re mad._ Yes, Ronan _had_ been mad, at so many things. He had been keeping so many secrets back then, some he’d even yet to admit to himself. But he couldn’t place the voice, and he couldn’t remember why he was even connecting it to this memory.

He balled up his fists, frustrated. Gansey, too, looked troubled. He’d stopped what he was doing, and his gaze lifted unerringly to the closed door that had gripped Ronan’s attention just a few minutes before.

Ronan shivered involuntarily. “I changed my mind. Let’s not go to Dollar City.”

Gansey nodded and put down his glue. “Okay. But let’s do something. Let’s get in the Pig, go for a drive.”

Ronan hopped to his feet. “Good idea. I’ll drive.”

“No.”

He scowled. “Fine. Then I pick the tunes.”

Gansey sighed, but smiled. “Fine.”

And so they drove, and Ronan turned the music loud enough so that they couldn’t hear themselves think about anything. Not school or graduation or the future or Cabeswater.

Not the gaping hole where something nameless but important had been carved out.

* * *

Adam was at that point of the night where all the words on the page were swirling into one. He was a diligent note-taker, a very helpful trait, but he’d been trying to condense this particular page of history notes into shorter, more concise and easy to remember notes for almost an hour now.

He kept reading the same sentence over and over again, his pencil moving absently over a blank piece of paper as he tried to summarise the point as succinctly as he could, but he wasn’t even sure he understood.

It was possible he was too tired for this.

He checked the time on his new (old) cellphone, as Opal still had his watch. No wonder he was tired; it was almost one in the morning. He’d been at school all day, then at work until ten, before back to his tiny apartment for homework and studying. He hadn’t even had a chance to see Ronan. Tomorrow was Saturday at least, and he didn’t have to work.

Adam yawned and stretched, then looked down at his sheet of paper to see if he’d managed to get anything useful done at all.

He’d written down a few useful points, so the last hour hadn’t been a complete waste. However, it was the writing in the margin that caught his eye.

 _Don’t throw it away._ It was in Adam’s handwriting, but he didn’t remember writing it.

“I’m trying not to,” he said out loud into the empty apartment, not understanding why. The words were just there, queued up, like he’d said them before. All at once he thought of that fateful night back when he’d made his bargain to Cabeswater, when everything had really properly _started._

His heart ached, the way it always did when he thought about Cabeswater. Adam missed it in a way he had never thought possible, but he embraced that pain. Cabeswater sacrificed itself for them, for Gansey. Its absence was _supposed_ to hurt. That loss had a name.

Adam looked at the words on the paper. They were important, and they pulled at him, but he didn’t know why. Whatever this meant, whatever part of him had unthinkingly scrawled those words onto the page, was lost.

He didn’t like a problem he couldn’t solve, but this felt different somehow. Like he wasn’t _supposed_ to know. Maybe it was just advice he should follow instead.

 _Don’t throw it away._ What? Time, maybe. Adam checked his phone again, suddenly wide awake. Finals were looming. Summer would be here before he knew it.

He texted Ronan: **you up?**

**\- is this a booty call parrish**

He laughed at his phone and typed out a reply: **i’ll take that as a yes. on my way, see you soon x**

He threw his toothbrush, pyjamas, and a change of clothes into a rucksack before hurriedly turning out the light and locking the door. The shitbox was getting increasingly temperamental about starting these days, but somehow Adam knew he wouldn’t have a problem tonight, and when he turned the key, it started like it was brand new.

Adam smiled. _Don’t throw it away._ He was the one who wrote it; it could mean whatever he wanted it to mean. Tonight, it was the opportunity for a few extra hours with Ronan. Tomorrow, it might mean something else.

“I won’t,” he said to himself, glancing in the rear-view mirror.

Only his own eyes looked back, but somehow, he didn’t feel alone.

* * *

Gansey couldn’t sleep.

This wasn’t an odd occurrence, and as he’d had frequent bouts of insomnia before he’d died (again), there was some comfort to take in it. There was crossover, he was still him, the quirks that made him intrinsically _Gansey_ not irrevocably removed.

Nevertheless, it was hard to reconcile who he was _now_ with who he’d been _then._ He’d died, properly died. He remembered the kiss, just as sweet as he had imagined it would be. It was hard to believe there was any way it could kill him. But kill him it did. And then?

Nothing.

And yet he’d woken up at the side of the road, surrounded by his friends. He was back, and the price they paid was Cabeswater.

Needless to say, it weighed heavily on his soul.

He sat up in bed and thought about calling Blue. It really was very late though, and Blue usually called him. There were a lot of people he risked waking up at 300 Fox Way. Ronan wasn’t here tonight either, at Adam’s or the Barns; Gansey wasn’t sure which.

Feeling alone at Monmouth was strange. He’d always felt more at home here in Henrietta than anywhere else he’d ever spent any extended time, and Monmouth in particular was part of that. It was his books stacked in tottering piles all over the place, his maps that lined the walls, the model of the town he’d built on the floor. If Cabeswater was in his soul now, then Henrietta was in his heart.

Being here and feeling lonely? That was new.

He got out of bed and went to the kitchen/bathroom for a glass of water. On his way back, he passed Ronan’s room. He peered inside, and it was just as Ronan left it; a mess. Bed unmade, miscellaneous objects strewn about, a discarded pair of jeans and a tank top left in the middle of the floor. It made Gansey smile, fortified by the sight. Even when he wasn’t here, Ronan’s presence was undeniable.

Gansey pulled the door to and carried on to the closed door next to Ronan’s room. He hesitated outside it, his hand hovering over the handle.

He knew it would be empty, because it was always empty, but he still had to fight the urge to knock. He turned the handle and stepped inside. There was a bedframe, a desk, and nothing else.

Gansey left quickly, remembering to pull the door shut tight behind him. He sat heavily on his bed and pulled his covers up to wrap them around him. He couldn’t tell if he was actually cold or just unsettled. There was a nagging feeling in the back of his head that he’d forgotten something. It was like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

He lay down, figuring he may as well try and get some sleep. He let his mind drift, and soon he was in the place that was somewhere in between dreaming and awake, where the lines of reality were blurred into obscurity.

He heard a buzzing, or he thought he did, and dread filled him, creeping up from his toes. He was paralyzed by it. He didn’t want to open his eyes just in case something was there. If there was a wasp, then maybe if he stayed still, it would leave. Or maybe he was dreaming and it didn’t matter either way.

Cold air moved past his ear, like the breath of a ghost. Instantly, Gansey relaxed, some strange sense of déjà vu washing over him. He opened his eyes. The buzzing had stopped, if it was ever even there in the first place.

“I’m alright,” he murmured to himself. “Nothing there.”

He felt comforted by a memory that was just out of reach. It swirled like mist, intangible, slipping through his fingers. It was that absence again, the one they all felt but couldn’t name. There were so many memories like this that just seemed to rearrange themselves in a way that almost but didn’t quite make sense. It was like they were all gas-lighting themselves; this sense of _wrongness_ surrounding how they remembered certain events.

It was something to do with the ley line, with Cabeswater being gone, with Gansey being brought back. It had to be. But none of them knew, because none of them could remember.

“I’m sorry,” Gansey whispered, without knowing who or what he was talking to.

There was no reply of course, but he hadn’t really expected one. He rested his head back down on his pillow and sighed sadly.

“Nothing there.”

**Author's Note:**

> so in a lot of ways i actually -- in theory -- like the idea that canonically they can't remember noah. don't get me wrong, it hurts my heart, but there's something poetic about just how tragic that is, and obviously it's so unfair, but that's the POINT. however, i can't wrap my head around how that would work logistically. literally what happens to all of their memories of noah, what DOES blue think happened to her eye, would she and gansey even still remember finding his bones, and then reburying his bones on the ley line? and if they can, how do they reconcile those memories with the reality that they no longer know who noah is? anyway, that's what i was thinking about this morning and so this happened and i made myself sad :))))


End file.
